


Your Eyes Tell a Different Story

by Galpal_007



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich S3 E9, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galpal_007/pseuds/Galpal_007
Summary: S3 E9 is the most painful scene for me to watch over all ten seasons. I've always wanted to put a different spin on it. Imagine if this had actually happened, the many different roads it would've taken us down. I could watch our boys travel down 1000 different roads and never get bored.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 19
Kudos: 84





	Your Eyes Tell a Different Story

Mickey slammed the crumpled dollar bills on the counter without counting and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. He knew he’d likely overpaid, but he didn’t give a shit. 

He walked the short distance to the abandoned warehouse and began climbing the stairs to meet his solace. The open space on the top floor had become his home away from home, in spite of the fact that everything about the place reminded him of Ian Gallagher. 

Mickey unscrewed the bottle and took his first swig as he slumped against the cold, concrete wall. The burn felt good and he took another swig. 

The bruises on his face caused by the hand of his psychopath, bigot father had begun to heal on the surface, but the pain underneath and inside, was still an open wound. 

He took another swig, rested his head against the concrete wall and closed his eyes. 

The show was on repeat in his nightmares and he had a front row seat, as he watched Ian watch him get fucked by a Russian whore with a gun pointed to his head, night after night. 

His nightmares were the worst punishment of all, because he would often switch places with Ian in his dreams, forcibly made to sit and watch the shit-show from the other side of the glass lense. It was excruciating to watch. The pain he would see in Ian's eyes while forced to sit still and take it, bloodied, vulnerable and helpless, as he gets fucked against his will, was all too much. The grand finale of Ian fucking the whore, chasing his orgasm, brought vile to the pit of Mickey’s stomach each time. 

There was no release from the mix of emotions that haunted him. The humiliation, fear and anger would not relent and the more time that went by, the more his anger turned to bitterness as he continued pushing aside his own pain to experience Ian’s, causing ripples of mortification and disgust from what Ian had to witness. 

Mickey placed the bottle on the ground and rubbed his eyes with the back of his palms in effort to push back the tears that had been threatening to fall for weeks. 

He wanted to blame Ian for everything. From the moment the goofy redhead broke into his room with a tire iron, everything for Mickey had changed. That first fuck, unexpected and raw, had been the ultimate high of his life. In the heat of that first moment, they’d connected on a level that felt as though they’d been fucking each other for ten years. 

There had been no pretense or questioning when Ian flipped Mickey onto his stomach and took control. For a scrawny redhead, the kid fucked like it was his job and Mickey had come harder than he’d ever come in his entire life. 

The time he’d spent with Ian over the past 2-3 years was the highlight of his day, every day, although he would never, ever admit it. The look in Ian’s green eyes every time they saw Mickey used to annoy and piss him off, but it became something he watched for and craved. 

The more Mickey pushed Ian away, never giving him an inch of any hope, made him feel as though he still had some control in a dangerous situation that felt like a free-fall. He’d convinced Ian that he was just a warm mouth, but he’d never been able to convince himself.

The invitation for Ian to spend the night, as innocent as it could’ve been perceived given that the redhead was sleeping on a hard cot in a boys home, had signaled a milestone for Mickey. He had feelings for Ian that went beyond the course of just ‘fuck buddies’. Deep down, tucked behind every wall he’d built up, Mickey considered Ian his boyfriend. 

Mickey took another huge swig of whiskey and wiped his eyes again. Ian was going to get him killed or worse, get himself killed. The only answer was to forget he ever existed at all.

He picked up a rock and threw it across the room in an attempt to divert his thoughts when he heard the footsteps. 

His breath hitched as Ian walked into the room and leaned against a pillar, “So is it true...getting married?”

Mickey took another drink and dropped his head. He needed Ian to walk away and never come back. The fear and danger was too real for Mickey and he felt the anger begin to boil. 

Ian stepped closer, “So uh, who is it? Angie Zago or some other piece of trash you screw so you can pretend I don’t matter to you?”

Mickey tossed another rock across the room and took another swig from the bottle. He knew Ian was hurting, but there was nothing he could do about it. 

Ian stormed across the room, picked up a glass bottle in a rage and threw it across the room with a loud crash. 

“Ey! What the fuck, Gallagher!” Mickey shouted. 

“Oh! He speaks!” Ian shot back, as Mickey began to stand. 

Mickey needed to get out of the room, far away from Ian. His blood was rushing and it felt like he was about to enter a point of no return. He never so much as glanced Ian’s way as he walked right past him and down the stairs, pushing the door open to the outside. 

Ian was close on his heels, “So that’s it...we’re over. Your dad beats the shit out of us and uh, you’re just gonna get married, no conversation...nothing?” 

Mickey continued to walk in silence, stoned-face, when Ian grabbed his arm and spun him around so that they were face-to-face. He pushed Ian back and silently cursed him for always wearing his fuckin’ heart on his sleeve.

Ian charged him again, taunting the anger that had been bubbling in the pit of Mickey’s stomach. Mickey planted both hands on Ian’s chest and shoved him back with more force. 

“Get the fuck off me!” Mickey warned, with heat laced in his voice. 

He watched as Ian stumbled back, caught his balance and opened his arms.

“Oh, you wanna fagbash? Will it make you feel like a man? C’mon, go ahead...do it!” He screamed, pointing his fingers to his jawline. 

Mickey silently cursed Ian again for always being so goddamn fearless as he stepped forward and threw a quick, powerful punch to his stomach, causing Ian to bend over in pain. 

Mickey caught the pain in Ian’s eyes and turned away to look up at the sky to avoid them. “Fuck,” he cursed in agony, as he leaned down to pick up the bottle that had slipped through his fingers and began to walk away. 

His heart was breaking and he had no roadmap on how to handle it, when Ian’s voice stopped him. 

“You love me! And...you’re gay,” he said, still crouched over and attempting to stand. 

Ian stumbled toward Mickey and pleaded, “Just admit it. Just...just this once. Fucking admit it!”

Mickey clocked Ian’s jaw with a quick, hard right that sent him falling back to the ground. 

His heart raced and his breathing was rushed as he looked down and watched Ian wither in pain, coughing on his own blood. He would rather be buried alive before admitting his feelings out loud. His fear of being shot and weighted down in Lake Michigan exceeded his ability to love and live free. It was cruel and unfair. 

Ian coughed, rolled over slowly and looked Mickey in the eyes.

“You feel better now? Feel like a man…” He pressed. 

Mickey’s anger raged and took over as he powered his leg and kicked Ian in the face without thinking twice, sending blood flying through the air before his head hit the pavement.

“Feel better now,” Mickey lied, as he walked away from the moans behind him that slowly faded as he put more distance between them.

He passed a few buildings, turned a corner and crouched down against the side of a building and heaved, trying to catch his breath. He covered his face with his hands and began to convulse, finally letting go, allowing the tears to spill over. 

He would never be able to forgive himself for hurting and abandoning Ian. Mickey knew that Ian loved him. He’d always known. He knew he was going through his own pain, but Mickey also knew that Ian couldn’t possibly understand the danger their relationship put them in. He wasn’t just protecting himself, he was protecting him. 

A fresh flood of tears crashed over him as images of Ian lying on the cold ground, bleeding, hurt and alone blurred his vision.

Mickey shook through his tears and tried to catch his breath, as two hands gently gripped his shoulders from behind. He felt Ian kneel behind him and gently pull him back close against his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around Mickey and softly rocked him back and forth, in effort to pull Mickey away from the invisible ledge he was standing on. 

"It's OK, Mick. I've got you." Ian whispered, as he held him tight from behind and buried his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck, repeating the words, ‘I’ve got you’. 

It was at that moment that he knew. Micky didn’t know what falling in love felt like, but was sure this was at least the starting point. The safety and comfort Ian brought him was overwhelming and he had no fight left in him. 

They shared a moment of silence while Ian continued to hold him until Mickey was finally able to breathe again. 

“I...I’m sorry.” Mickey forced through choked-up tears, gripping the redhead's arms that still held him. 

He felt Ian’s hold on him tighten. “I know, Mick.” He promised.

Mickey slowly turned around to face Ian, forgetting about his psychopath dad, prostitute bitch fiance, and the fear that had crippled him for so long. The fight was definitely over. 

He grimaced at the sight of Ian. His eye was already swollen and blood covered the lower part of his face. His eyes were red and watery, but still filled with that same adoration always present when he was with Mickey. He was so fucking beautiful. 

Ian cupped the back of Mickey’s neck and pulled him closer to give his forehead a soft, reassuring kiss. It was a bold move, even for him, which Mickey didn’t reject.

Mickey looked up and locked eyes with Ian as his emotions found their way to the surface. He quickly looked down at Ian’s lips and back up to his eyes in swift motion. Ian must have felt it too because the hand on the back of Mickey’s neck tightened before he was pulled in for a deep kiss. 

The smell and taste of Ian Gallagher was intoxicating and he couldn't believe he’d deprived himself of something so perfect for so long. He fell into the kiss and promised himself that this would not be the last time. 

Mickey lifted his hand and cupped the side of Ian's face as the other pulled him closer, deepening the kiss in hopes that it sent a soft enough signal to Ian that he was here now, he'd finally arrived and he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Mickey new that he owed Ian an explanation...something, anything, to give him some sort of comfort and maybe a tinge of hope, that whatever challenges lay ahead, he was now willing to face them together.


End file.
